


Four Huntresses Walk into a Manor

by The_Escaped



Category: RWBY
Genre: And really who wouldn't?, Crack Treated Seriously, Fantastic Racism, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Jacques Schnee's A+ Parenting, This was mostly a joke, Weiss and Whitley are Siblings TM, Whitley has a crush on Yang, Whitley needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-01-16 03:22:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21264254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Escaped/pseuds/The_Escaped
Summary: "Hey man. I'm Yang. This is Blake. We're about to get on this ginormous airship and get out of here. Wanna come?"





	1. In which Yang's older sibling instincts ACTIVATE

**Author's Note:**

> Rewatching all of RWBY before Vol. 7 has not helped me to write my serious fics at all. I keep getting all these plot bunnies and I have to throw them out into the world before they're gone.

The door slammed open before he’d figured out what was happening in Father’s office past that the shouting sounded a lot like _girls_. He jerked back before it slammed into his face and narrowly avoided a concussion that certainly wouldn't help the pounding in his skull. He was still processing that when a girl stalked out.

She was so brightly colored that for a second it was all he could absorb about her. The scarlet cape and dress was a shout against the sleek white of the manor. Then he saw the enormous scythe across her back.

A Huntress, or a student at least. Clearly not from Atlesian stock, with that ridiculous outfit and impractical-looking weapon, though how she’d gotten into the country was beyond him. That wouldn’t be allowed at the Atlas academy, he was sure. He couldn’t imagine it was conducive to her job performance, to wear such bright red. It had to paint a target on her back that she didn’t look old enough to have the skill to back up.

There was red all along her cheekbones too, from anger. She reached back into Father’s study and tugged someone out after her.

He went still, shocked.

“Weiss?”

Weiss turned around, eyes going wide when she saw him.

“Whitley?”

He hadn’t seen her since just after the concert. Weiss had completely lost it at the after-party, making an enormous scene and Father had disinherited her, and within a week she’d been gone.

Father had tried to brush it off as her going somewhere for help, but Whitley wasn’t a child anymore. He was able to see what a tight handle he’d kept on the household staff, forcing them to keep quiet about it. Father had been desperate to control the news. Weiss’s disappearance had had nothing to do with him.

She looked different from the way she’d looked those months after Father had put a stop to her rebellious streak in Vale, when she’d skulked around the house like a ghost and only been interested in talking to Klein. She was wearing a bright red scarf around her throat. It clashed terribly with her dress.

It looked comfortable on her, somehow, despite that.

And she was still staring at him, mouth open but eyes narrowing, just like she had when she’d come home and stared at him like she didn’t recognize him, like it was his fault she’d left and hadn’t expected him to grow up.

He pulled up the same smile he used to greet guests at charity balls. It was the same one she used, so he knew she would know how insincere it was.

“Sister. You’re looking…” he let his eyes linger on the clashing scarf. “Hm. What a surprise to see you home again, at any rate.”

Her mouth tucked down unhappily. Weiss’s friend side-eyed her carefully, like she wasn’t sure whether she should step in or not. He let his eyes flick to her disheveled hair and flustered attitude and then back to Weiss. His sister’s cheeks went pink, but she angled her shoulders back and lifted her chin.

It was the way she was carrying herself, Whitley realized. That was what was so different about her.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me-” Father lurched out of the room, and came to a stop. He looked at Weiss. Then he looked at Whitley.

There was no reason for Whitley’s heart to skip a beat at that. He was glaring because of whatever nonsense Weiss had brought into their home, not any fault of Whitley’s.

Somehow, though, Whitley had a feeling it would be his problem regardless.

“Why aren’t you practicing?” Father demanded. His voice was still polished, aware of the guests that they had, but it was a thin veneer over his anger. “Your recital is tomorrow.”

Whitley drew back slightly.

“I was just taking a short break,” he said, but he said it quietly, “To get some aspirin.”

Father’s lips tucked down into a sharp frown. His eyes flashed. If they were alone, he would have started shouting, Whitley knew. He might even do more.

He already knew it all. He was the only one left. He had to uphold the Schnee family legacy. It was all on him now, and he wouldn’t be allowed to fail the way Winter and Weiss had.

“Hey, I’m not finished with you!” declared another voice from inside the room, and another shout of color stormed out of Father’s office.

This one was brilliant yellow, and between her unruly hair and her bright red eyes she was an even bigger spectacle of color than the one still holding onto Weiss. She spun Father around and picked up their argument again.

A fourth figure, this one dark and silent enough to be a shadow, followed after her quickly. Whitley took in the cat ears flattened neatly against her skull and raised an eyebrow at Weiss, expecting her to flush.

Only Weiss wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were on Father, and Whitley was taken aback at the familiar look of dread on her face.

Weiss’s friend- though he could hardly imagine that even Weiss would allow her standards to fall so much as to call this person a friend- grimaced and steered Weiss away from Father, and Weiss let her. She cast one more look at Whitley before she went, but she still went, so it didn’t really amount to much. Whitley let his own gaze slide back away from her, because if she was leaving he didn’t see why he had to watch her go as well.

“Enough!” Father snapped, and Whitley jolted instinctively. But Father wasn’t looking at him, instead he was glowering at the Huntress. It was harder for him to loom over her than the people he usually spoke to, since she was roughly as tall as him and a wall of muscle. “Remove yourself from my property, or I’ll have security remove you themselves. Take your vermin with you.” The faunus girl went pale, her ears flattening all the way down to her skull.

“What the _fuck_ did you just say-” began the Huntress.

Father turned to him, ignoring the others, and it wasn’t at all hard for him to loom over Whitley. Behind him, Whitley could see the blonde one open her mouth angrily and the faunus take her hand and shake her head once.

If they were alone, Father would have spent an exhaustive amount of time reminding him of his responsibilities as the heir to the Schnee Dust Company, about his obligations to the family, about the duties that Whitley perform. But they did have guests in the house, so Father only ground out, “Return to practicing. You’ll report to my study tonight and we’ll discuss your difficulties with your commitments.”

So it would only be a temporary reprieve then. Whitley hitched up his smile.

“Of course.” 

Father slammed the door to his study shut again. The noise thudded into his skull like a blow, making his headache ricochet up a notch.

By the time he looked down the hall Weiss had vanished into, she was already gone again. Fine. Whitely had never needed her anyway. He’d certainly learned _that_ in the past two years.

Two of her…friends were still there though.

The faunus’s ears were still flat against her head, her gaze swept back and forth like she was expecting the police to show up. Her hands kept twitching towards the weapon on her back. The other one…

The human one was frowning at him.

“Don’t you need to go waste the time of the rest of the council members?” he asked nastily, because there was absolutely no other reason he could think of that Weiss would be in their house again. Clearly it hadn’t been for anything else.

He’d said it to make Weiss’s friend scowl and stomp off, just like the one who’d been towing his sister. To his confusion and dismay, a small smile started to hover over her face, crouching down slightly.

“Aw, he’s like a tiny baby ice queen!”

Whitley drew back, affronted.

“I _beg your pardon?_” he demanded, but she hardly paid attention to him, turning to the faunus girl instead.

“Look, doesn’t he scowl just like Weiss did the first month at Beacon?” Whitley fixed her with the most withering stare he could manage. The Huntress _cooed_. “I’m getting so nostalgic.”

Whitley looked at the faunus, nonplussed. To his dismay, her lips were beginning to twitch up.

“I’m sure he would prefer being called an ice prince,” she said quietly.

Something had to be done to get this situation back on track.

“I am _nothing_ like my sister,” he grit out. Whitley knew the importance of upholding the Schnee name and business for one, something that Winter and now Weiss seemed to have managed to forget. _He_ hadn’t disgraced himself. He was the only one of the Schnee children who still belonged to the legacy.

The Huntress only smiled like she thought he was wrong but wasn’t going to call him on it.

“Look at him, he’s got the same style clothing, and the frown, and the white ha-” she stopped, the smile blowing out suddenly, focused on something above Whitley’s eyes.

One hand- Atlesian tech, and why had she defaced it with _paint_\- reached towards his face and tilted it up before he could even react.

He jerked away.

There was a bruise on the edge of his temple, he remembered suddenly. He’d argued with Father yesterday about adding more recitals to his workload. He’d raided Weiss’s room for her make-up (not like she was going to use it if she was gone _again_, if it was important she wouldn’t have _left it_) to cover it. Klein had looked at him for a long time this morning, and his eyes had flickered to red, but he didn’t mention it, only declared that he would be making crepes for breakfast.

He’d been rubbing at his forehead all day because of the headache, Whitley realized with an unpleasant lurch. It wouldn’t have mattered before, when there was no one in the mansion, but now…

“I hope you don’t think Father was bluffing about calling security,” he said coolly, “You should remove yourself from the premises. I see my dear sister already has. The police are less lenient with certain people,” he looked pointedly at the faunus girl, “here than I’m sure you’re used to.”

The Huntress straightened slightly. The pair of them exchanged a long look that Whitley couldn't interpret. When she turned back, she pushed at her mane of hair with one hand.

“Sorry, I messed that up. Let me try again.” She extended a hand. “Hey, man. I’m Yang, this is Blake,” she said, indicating the faunus, “We’re about to get on this ginormous airship and get out of here. Wanna come?”

Whitley blinked. Blinked again.

“I’m sorry?”

“Want to get out of here?” she clarified.

Whitley’s head snapped to the side, but the door to Father’s study was still closed and likely locked. For all she’d been shouting at Father before, the Huntress had asked him the question softly enough that the sound wouldn’t have made it through the door.

It still made his pulse race though. If Father suspected he was even thinking about leaving, if he thought Whitley had even entertained such a ridiculous notion…

When he turned back to her, the Huntress’s hand was still stretched out into the space between them.

It was some kind of trap. It had to be.

“I don’t have any Aura,” he snapped, defensive and furious that he had to say it out loud, “I wouldn’t be much help to your little militia or whatever barbaric extra-military exercise this is.”

The faunus frowned, but the blond one only smiled a little more widely.

“Yeah, no offense kid, but I wasn’t offering because of your military prowess,” she said, giving him a quick once-over.

Whitley bristled.

“Why would you offer then?”

Her eyes slid to the mark on his temple. Whitley covered it with one hand and promptly felt like a child. He didn’t need their _pity_.

“Weiss misses you.”

He scoffed. “No she doesn’t.” Weiss had adored Winter, but she’d been too busy with singing lessons and wrestling her uncivilized powers into control to do much more than tolerate him and then she’d been gone.

“Well, she certainly wouldn’t want to leave you with _that_.” Her eyes went to the door, still closed, and flared bright red. Klein’s did that too sometimes, when he was displeased with something Father had done. “And whether she does or not, you shouldn’t have to deal with it.” She caught his eye again. “Do you want to stay?”

He was the only one left. Winter was gone, Weiss was gone, and Mother had checked out so long ago that Whitley could barely even remember her without a bottle on hand. There was no one else for Father to focus on.

He glanced at the door one last time. Thought of the discussion he was supposed to have later that night.

Ignoring the shrieking voice in his head that sounded just like Father, he turned back to her.

“I suppose having the _true_ heir to the Schnee Dust Company would open whatever doors you’re trying to get into coming here,” he decided airily, “I should be gracious and help my sister out.”

The Huntress- Yang- grinned. Ironically, she was the one who looked the most animalistic when she did it.

Whitley reached forward to shake on it, but the second his hands closed around Yang’s she yanked him forward off his feet, and they were running through the corridor.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, only barely remembering to keep his voice down.

“I’m not giving you a chance to change your mind!” she explained cheerfully.

Whitley twisted to see the faunus- Blake’s- face, to see if this was how everything was around these people, but she was running so that she was nearly sideways, scanning the hall behind them for anyone who might come after them, with one hand on her gun, and Whitley felt…protected.

Well.

If this was anything like how Weiss’s friends made her feel, maybe he could understand how she’d left and never once looked back.

He couldn’t wait to see her face when he told her.


	2. In which the airship is not ginormous but it's ok anyway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to publish something on leap day, so I'm glad this was mostly finished! 
> 
> This is so much longer, because I can't even write a crack fic without it getting a little angsty.

Whitley half expected some kind of police presence to appear, sirens blaring, and whisk him back to the manor. He kept waiting, heart pounding, for the sound of consequences, for the sound of something that would drag him back to the cold halls and tense silences, but they made it to a small side street on the other side of Atlas without incident. He was still winded when they finally made it, more from the adrenaline than the actual run.

“I thought you said it was big.”

The girls looked over the ship. It was obvious that these people weren’t from Atlas, but he thought that at least size was something that was common across Anima.

Yang looked back, nonplussed. “It’s big enough for us all to fit,” she shrugged, like that was good enough for her. Blake was grinning again. She was covering her face, but Whitley still knew what she was doing. He glared at her.

Yang made to sweep him into the door, and it was too soon, he hadn’t even figured out what to say-

“My sister isn’t going to thank you for this, you know,” he felt the need to point out, and she paused.

“Hey. I’m an older sister too,” Yang told him. One of her arms was still around his shoulders. It made his skin itch but he didn’t want her to take it off either. Whitley…didn’t know how to process that. “I know how we operate.”

Whitley opened his mouth to let her know what he thought of her comparing her family to his when she picked him up (with one hand, how did she _do_ that-) and tossed him casually into the aircraft.

Weiss was sitting in the corner with the girl in the red cloak. The girl was indecently close, nearly hanging off of Weiss, and Weiss was _allowing it_.

“…alright to be unhappy when…” the girl was saying, but Weiss looked up and saw him and it was like the rest of the world fell away.

Winter had left for the Atlas Academy when Whitley was a child. He didn’t remember much about her, except the times she came back to visit. Father was always angrier after those visits. It made for an unhappy childhood, especially with all that White Fang nonsense on top of it. Weiss had accused him of hating Winter. He certainly hadn’t liked her; hadn’t liked the pursed way she looked at him when it became clear he wouldn’t be able to unlock his Aura, the way she’d just run out on their family name, the way Father’s expression darkened into a stormcloud until weeks after she’d left. She hadn’t visited in years, now that Weiss was gone, because there was no one left in the house who needed training.

But Weiss had been stuck at the manor with him for all that time, up until two years ago. They’d been stuck there together, and that had meant something to him. Apparently more than it had meant to Weiss.

“Whitley?” she asked, stunned. Whitley was suddenly, uncomfortably aware of how it had to look to her. In an effort to keep him hidden, Weiss’s teammate had slung her jacket over his shoulders, and now he was drowning in a biker’s jacket that reeked of motor oil and gunsmoke. Somehow, despite the thickness of the fabric he still felt exposed. He also felt ludicrous.

He opened his mouth and realized he didn’t still didn’t know what to say, he hadn’t come up with a plan, how could he have been so ridiculous-

Before he could panic, the Huntress slung her arm over his shoulders again, tugging him off balance.

“Weiss, look! I’m taking a page out of my mom’s book- I kidnapped a Schnee!”

“_What?_” Whitley demanded, but Weiss said the same thing at the same time and they both twisted to stare at each other. His sister’s face got that same lost look again, like she didn’t know what to do about him.

Yang grinned, all sharp confidence and absolutely thrilled with herself. “Your baby brother has a headache,” she announced, and shoved Whitley at his sister. Whitley didn’t know what they were feeding Huntsmen these days, but he skidded the entire length of the ship and crashed into his sister, nearly sending them both to the floor. Even if she was more discreet about it, he knew Blake was smiling too.

Weiss regained her footing in time to spare them both the embarrassment. She glared at Yang frostily, scoffed “_Honestly_,” under her breath, but she turned to Whitley, fingers curling against his shoulders, looking him up and down with something that might even be called concern.

He was taller than her now. Just by an inch, but still. It felt like his whole childhood he’d been looking up at her back. It had put a pit in his stomach to look down at her face-to-face at the manor, and it felt even worse here. From Weiss’s expression- and she really had let her control lapse, if she was showing her emotions so blatantly now- she felt just as uncomfortable. They weren’t close emotionally. Why would they be close physically?

Yang stuck her tongue out at them. Whitley watched, startled, as Weiss echoed the gesture and turned to him.

What she saw made her frown, the downturn of her lips sharp and annoyed, and Whitley had _told_ them, he’d told them that Weiss wouldn’t want him here in her new life and they hadn’t listened and now they would all see it-

But then she put a hand on his head. Whitley didn’t even remember the bruise until dull pain flared, making him twitch. Oh. That.

Weiss looked stricken, just for a moment. Then she pulled herself back into the calm façade he remembered from childhood. “A… headache,” she murmured, distaste in her voice. Whitley’s mouth twisted, but he didn’t respond. Luckily, he didn’t need to. Her face darkened. “How many recitals does he have planned for you this month?”

Ah. To be understood. Weiss knew all about the practicing and practicing until the notes rang in your ears and drowned out everything else. Whitley gave the social function smile again, charming and inoffensive and utterly meaningless.

“Are we counting the ones I’ve already done?”

Weiss scowled and tugged him towards the bench she’d been sitting on before. Her friend scooted over, eyes huge, to give Weiss space to pull him down onto the bench where she’d been sitting. “Stay there.”

“You’re not the boss of me.” Was the first thing out of Whitley’s mouth. Weiss scowled; Yang snorted from the other side of the airship.

“Ice prince,” she said in a whisper that carried all the way across the airship. Blake hit her shoulder lightly.

Weiss raised a finger in warning. “We are not revisiting that nickname!” she ordered, scowling.

Yang watched her march across the ship, a honey-sly smirk on her face.

“You’re not the boss of me either,” she teased, and winked at Whitley. Whitley, to his horror, felt his face go hot. Hastily, he looked away. It probably made him a terrible person, to be annoyed that he was sharing a nickname with his sister.

The other girl was too-close to him now. Her hood was pulled up against the chill from outside. She was watching him with the palest grey eyes he’d ever seen. Whitley scowled at her as Weiss moved around the other side of the ship, rummaging in a compartment. “Ruby.” Weiss said, and there wasn’t the usual bite in her voice. It was something long-suffering, but fond. “We’ve talked about personal space.”

The girl scooted obediently to the other side of the bench. She was still looking at Whitley with something that looked dangerously close to pity.

“Hey, Rubes,” Yang called from the other side of the room, “C’mere. You wanted to go see Mantle, right?”

Ruby looked back at Weiss, worry playing over her face.

“I’ll be fine,” Weiss said without looking over at them, almost absent. Her eyes were fixed on Whitley’s temple, “Go on. Keep an eye out for anyone who would bother Blake.”

The others didn’t move. Whitley looked up and realized Yang and Blake were watching him for his reaction before they left. He glared at them. Blake smiled; Yang saluted lazily.

And then it was just the two of them in the airship. Whitley looked around at space, at the empty cans of food on the floor in the corner. At the abandoned bag of cashews spilling out of a chair. Anything that wasn’t his sister, who was still staring at him like she'd never seen him before in her life.

“I told them you wouldn’t want me here,” he said blandly when the silence stretched too long, “Your friends are about as good at listening as you are.”

Weiss flinched. He could see it out of the corner of his eye. Then she straightened her shoulders and turned to him.

“Let me see your head.”

She produced some kind of aspirin from the med-kit in her lap, and set about looking at his temple.

“Is that make-up?” she began, squinting, and then, “Is that _my_ makeup?”

“You weren’t using it,” he pointed out defensively, and she frowned harder but didn’t say anything more on it. 

The longer she examined it, the more annoyed she looked. Like Whitley had been trying to be an _imposition _on her escape from her responsibilities-

“Why hasn’t Winter said anything?" she asked abruptly, and Whitley realized he'd misread her expression. For a second he was relieved, then he was annoyed for an entirely new reason. "She should have-"

“The only reason Winter ever came home was to see you,” Whitley interrupted her, “She doesn’t need to trouble herself with that now.”

To his surprise, Weiss scowled.

“You’re her brother too.”

“Has someone informed her of that?”

“She loves us,” Weiss began, and Whitley felt anger flare hot and bright inside him. She wasn’t _listening_ and he was so tired of hearing about perfect Winter, who was so brilliant when she’d left them when he was a _child_.

“It’s fine,” he snapped over her, “It isn’t as if I expected her to come back, anyway!”

He’d intended for the words to be biting, but only just enough that she’d stop going on about Winter. He’d wanted to keep the emotions back behind his teeth. From the horrified look spreading across Weiss’s face, he hadn’t been successful.

Whitley locked his mouth closed like at a dinner function and scowled at the ground. Weiss was silent next to him, back perfectly straight and posture perfect. Whitley knew if he looked back up at her, her expression would be perfectly blank as well. Weiss had always been better at playing the part of the perfect Schnee heiress, right up until she announced she was leaving.

One of her hands was just on the edge of her lap. Whitley could see it from the corner of his eye. He watched it reach for him, then hesitate. Whitley screwed his eyes tight. He could feel his face flush because he couldn’t keep his face blank like Weiss, he wasn’t as good an heir as Weiss had been, they both knew it-

“I saw your recital in last fall. The one for the charity ball.”

That one had been televised, he knew. Father had pulled a lot of strings to make it so, to distract from a mining accident that had happened earlier that month.

“You’ve improved.”

Whitley grimaced. “I messed up the opening and you know it.” The song was meant to have a vocal accompaniment, and it had been…harder, to practice it alone, than he had initially thought.

“I thought the variations you did were inspired.” He sat up a little straighter. Father hadn’t noticed until someone had pointed it out to him. Mother hadn’t even viewed it, to his knowledge. Weiss’s small smile faded. “I wanted to call you. I _should have_ called you. I was just…I was a coward.”

Whitley blinked and finally, finally, looked at his sister again.

She was smiling at her lap, but it didn’t fit right on her face. It was something cool and vicious, something directed inward.

“I was so scared of having to talk to Father. You know what he’s like. He just…he has this way of saying things, that makes you- that made _me-_ second-guess everything.” Whitley did know. He’d been on the receiving end of plenty of similar talks. He hadn't known Weiss had.

“I was scared that he would talk me out of staying in Beacon. It was good for me, there. I was happy. I don’t think that I realized how unhappy I was here, until I was away.” Whitley tried to control his expression at that, but he must not have done a good job because her face softened. Something brushed his hand. He looked down.

Weiss’s hand had moved out of her lap. Her fingers were interlocking with his, loosely enough that he could pull away if he wanted.

“You were the only thing bearable about home.”

Whitley doubted that. There was Klein, and Whitley knew that the past year he’d been exchanging nothing but barbs with Weiss when they did cross paths. But he wanted to believe it. He wanted it so hard that he almost could.

Whitley cleared his throat, blinking hard. He was on the verge of a completely uncalled for display of emotionality.

“Are you having deathbed conversations on this tiny ship?” he said, trying to distract from the tangle of emotions that was in his throat.

Weiss’s smile was small. Secretive. It had been a really long time since she’d shared any secrets with him. As long as they were the only two on the airship, he could admit he'd missed it.

“Yang and Ruby are so open with their emotions,” and she said it like a complaint, but Whitley could tell that she loved it, “They’ve been infecting Blake and I. Jaune and Nora too.”

“More friends?”

“You’ll meet them soon.” Like she couldn’t imagine him being anywhere else but with her now. Just like that. Like Whitley wasn’t nearly finished with his education, like he hadn’t been interning with the company since she’d left, like he’d _want _to-

He…he did want to, though?

She brushed his hair out of his face to look at the mark on his temple.

“I shouldn’t have left you alone with them,” she said, voice steady and performance-perfect, and Whitley knew that meant she was just barely able to hold in her emotions. “I thought he wouldn’t treat you like that. I should have known better. I knew that- I should have known better.”

Whitley stared at her. He hadn’t thought that Father had acted like that with Weiss. She was the perfect heir, every time Father had been comparing her to Winter after she’d abandoned them, and then every time Whitley had fallen short of his expectations.

But…but she hadn’t been. Or Father wouldn’t have disinherited her. Or she wouldn’t have left to go to Beacon.

Or…maybe Father was the one who was wrong.

“I’d like to do better,” Weiss said, interrupting his train of thought. Whitley blinked. Weiss was looking down. Her hand was still holding his. “If you’ll let me.”

Weiss’s fingers were still loose around his, a ghost-touch. He squeezed back until they felt real.

He was filling Weiss in on everything that had happened in the months she’d been gone when the door burst open. Whitley sprang back, away from where he definitely hadn’t been leaning against his sister’s shoulder, in time to see a troupe of- he could only assume they were Weiss’s schoolmates- arriving.

“We’re back!”

Whitley had thought Yang had been colorful. This new girl was an _explosion_. She burst through the door, fiery-orange hair and brilliant pinks and Whitley’s eyes hurt. He jumped so hard he nearly fell off the bench. His only consolation was that Weiss jumped too.

“Hello, Nora,” she said, long-suffering.

“Yang said your brother was here! Lemme see him! Lemme see him!”

One of the boys behind her grabbed by the shoulder before she could launch herself at both of them.

“Nora. Try to calm down,” he said, but he didn’t look very hopeful about it. The blond one behind him laughed uneasily.

Whitley barely noticed the boy slipping behind the others, except that he was Whitley’s age, so he was nowhere near ready to be a Huntsman. He was dressed in earthy colors and had eyes like a sunrise. He looked as surprised to see Whitley as Whitley did to see him.

Yang, her sister, and Blake brought up the rear. Yang grinned at him. “All good now?” she asked.

Whitley looked at Weiss, who was listening to her partner describe what she’d seen of Mantle. The ship was filling up with everyone else, but it didn’t feel claustrophobic like he’d expected.

“It will suffice,” he informed her stiffly, “Even if it is a _very_ _small_ ship.” She cracked a grin and put her hand on his head. Whitley thought that was all well and good until she proceeded to completely ruin his hair. Weiss snorted, which was completely undignified and beyond the pale.

The youngest one was creeping closer.

“Hi. I’m Oscar,” he said, holding out his hand. His smile was shy. “I’m new here too. They can…they can kind of be a lot, can’t they?”

Whitley took his hand because it was the proper thing to do.

“Are they always like this?” he wanted to know.

Oscar beamed. “Yeah. Isn’t it great?”

Whitley wasn’t sure he would go that far. He looked around the crowded airship, with all the _loud_, _haphazard_ people, who all looked so _happy_ to be around each other, who even looked happy that he was here too.

“It’s…acceptable,” he allowed, and next to him Weiss smiled. That felt good too.

But before he could formulate an answer, the door kicked open again, and a tall man lurched into the room.

He was the least put together man Whitley had ever seen. The way he moved reminded Whitley of Mother when she’d had too much to drink, but he couldn’t smell any alcohol on him.

“Is everybody here?” he looked around, raking a hand through unkempt hair, “I feel like I’m giving a field trip to a bunch of ki…” He trailed off as his eyes fell on Whitley and Weiss, both of them sitting on the bench. He leaned closer, squinting hard.

“There haven’t always been two Ice Queens in this ship, have there?”

“HA!” Yang said from the other side of the ship.

“I suppose it can’t be a drunken hallucination if you’ve finally climbed out of the bottle,” agreed the smallest old woman Whitley had ever seen. She made a beeline for the cashews.

“Hey,” the man said without sounding actually offended, still looking at Whitley. Whitley bristled defensively. “Oh gods, Winter is going to kill me,” he pronounced eventually. “She’s actually going to kill me this time.”

He knew Winter? He didn’t look like someone that Winter would want anything to do with. He looked like someone Winter would want to do _away_ with.

“Not if you actually put an effort in to explain to her,” Weiss said frostily.

He glanced away from Whitley to look at her. His gaze was assessing, but not cold like Father’s.

“Is it worth asking how your visit home went?” he asked softly.

Weiss drew herself up, sculpted from ice. “I should think it’s clear enough,” she said, stiff.

He looked over at Whitley one more time, then shrugged.

“I’m going to bill your sister for babysitting,” he said, turning towards the cockpit. Whitley opened his mouth to shout, but he was still talking, “One of her kid siblings was bad enough, this is too much.”

Weiss went scarlet. Oh. That was an insult for Weiss. Whitley supposed that was alright then.

“Qrow, she won’t be happy if-” Weiss began. The man threw up a hand in acknowledgement without paying attention.

“Your sister has literally never been happy with me. Somehow I’ll live.”

Oh. So Winter _didn’t_ want anything to do with him. That made Whitley a little more interested.

“Winter doesn’t like him?” he asked Weiss, and he tried to sound innocent, but from the look of dawning horror on his sister’s face he must not have succeeded.

“No.” she ordered at once, “Whitley-”

But Whitley was already up and walking towards the edge of the cockpit. The man- Qrow, Weiss had called him- looked up at him from where he was slouched in the seat. His feet were on the steering wheel. There was not a single thing about him that Winter would approve of.

It was at that moment that Whitley realized he wanted to be just like him.

“Somethin’ for you, kid?”

“Qrow, Winter will kill you if you corrupt our brother-” Weiss began from the other side of the ship, but even if it was too small it was still large enough for her to be too late.

Whitley eyed his cape. It was ragged all along the edge. It was dirty. It was a travesty. He wanted twenty of it.

“Do you know where I might get a cape like that?”

It was about time that he found his own role model, after all. Whitley couldn’t _wait_ to see the look on Winter’s face the next time he saw her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then Whitley adopts Qrow as his role model for the express purpose of annoying his sisters, and him and Oscar are BFFS. I think I'm done with this, but I might post some tiny little glimpses of this AU in the future on tumblr if you wanna check it out. I'm @shitlinguistssay :) Who knows, am I ever really done with anything?
> 
> Thanks for joining me on this journey. It was really fun to write a short, crack-ficcy work instead of angst.
> 
> September 2020 edit: This fic now has fanart! Check out the lovely @alainaavocado on tumblr, her other works are so beautiful as well!
> 
> <https://alainaavocado.tumblr.com/post/628648340381433856/whitley-eyed-his-cape-it-was-ragged-all-along-the>

**Author's Note:**

> This was all born out of Korg's lines in Thor:Ragnarok, so Taika Waititi, thank you for your service.
> 
> I think I'm going to write a small little epilogue, but I don't think this is gonna go much further than that. I promise I'll publish the next chapter of IBITF before I post that though. Happy birthday to Ruby, and a wonderful Halloween to you all!
> 
> Come say hi @ shitlingguistssay.tumblr.com anytime you like!


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